Raging Winter
by Wingcommander WhiteWolf
Summary: Dragons are on the Rise, Civil war is raging. One frosty Argonian must find his path to his destiny, to reclaim his honor, the respect of his clan and to reclaim his only son. How will he fair with the daunting challenges a head of him. Only the Divines can tell. (not good with Summaries) Rated M for Violence and Suggestive Themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Here we go, my First TES story. and the first story to come from me in the past six years. I hope you don't mind what I'm doing with it... I'm adding to the world while altering it to try and keeping it balanced enough to where it doesn't break in half. I don't think this was ready to post but I'm trying to get better, I understand a lot of this first bit is Word for word... Unfortunately I've played the game enough to nearly have the dialogue of the first thirty minutes of the game memorized, and furthermore I apologize if it seems like this chapter is a little bland. Comments and Critics welcome, please keep flames to yourself(I don't mind raging at plot twists as long as you don't go overboard), I wouldn't do it to you.**

 **I'd like to thank my soon to be Wife for being patent with me as I wrote this, as well as for her help in future chapters. My good Friends and talented partners Stormwolf77415, Sheppard and Haygood of Sheppard studios, and John Storm. As well as my thanks to HellomynameisEd (yes thats his handle) for his input he gave me several months ago when I was planning this story.**

 **I hope you enjoy the story.**

* * *

The Raging Winter.

Chapter one, Winged Darkness.

The sounds of horses bleating, snorting, trotting as well as the sound of wagon wheels grinding against their axels roused the large Argonian from his unwilling sleep. His first thought was, where was he, and how long was he unconscious. A dull throb in his head told him he had been struck as he brought his hands up to cradle his head only to find himself bound.

The human in front of him noticed that he was awake decided to get his attention, "Hey, you, Your finally awake." he started. He had sandy blond hair fair skin and wore cloth fur combination armor with a blue tunic. The armor of the Stormcloak rebels, "You were trying to cross the boarder right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us and that thief over there."

The Argonian remained silent having no real reason to speak he just shifted to where he was a little more comfortable but still hunching over to conceal his true height.

The fore mentioned thief really didn't like his position all too well snapped back at man, "Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. The Empire was nice and lazy." he just shook his head, "If they hadn't been looking for you. I could have stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell." then he turned to the Argonian. "You there... You're a Frost-scale right?" The Argonian's jaw tightened as he nodded slightly, "You and me… we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now thief." The fighter interrupted.

"Shut up back there." The driver called back clearly annoyed with the conversation that the prisoners were having.

The thief just continued directing his attention to the well dressed and gagged man to Iskar's immediate right, "What's wrong with him, huh?

"Watch your tongue!" Spat the fighter, angered at the rather blatant disrespect for the man, "Your speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the TRUE High king."

The Argonian continued to remain silent figuring it would be a better alternative to provoking the famed murderer, or his men. He had learned of the Stormcloaks from information that came through the camps. The last thing he needed was to be executed prematurely, granted he knew that's where they were headed because the Empire had Ulfric bound and gagged in this very cart. The civil war would soon draw to a close and the providence would see stability again… at least until the Dominion decide its time for another attempt to bend all of Tamrial to its will.

A few moments after the hostile exchange of words the thief's eyes widened in realization, "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion." Even more so, the facts hit him like an anvil was being dropped from the throat of the world, "But if they captured you… Oh gods where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we're headed, but Soverngarde awaits." The fighter closed his eyes thinking of the halls of valor.

"If that's what you want Nord, you can have it." The Argonian sighed speaking for first time, "I just want to hold my son in my arms again. And too see my clan again." his mind drifted to his son, who was turning eight this year staying with his grandmothers.

The Thief interrupted those pleasant thoughts. "No this can't be happening. This isn't happening."

"Hey horse thief. What village are you from?" the Stormcloak asked clearly annoyed that his reeve was interrupted.

"Why should you care?"

The fighter continued, "A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

"It's true. Any warrior's last should be as such." The northern Argonian hissed out in agreement. "Even for a Frost-scale."

"Rorikstead." the boy uttered, "I'm from Rorikstead."

They all looked up to see the walled gate of a village, a guard shouted to the man that was leading the convoy on horseback, "General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"

"Good lets get this over with." The aging Imperial shot back at the guard as they trotted though the gate into the village.

"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynerith, Akatosh." the boy prayed, "Divines, please help me."

The fighter growled slightly as the General started to speak to a high elf mounted on a horse with her entourage, "Look at him, General Tullius the military governor." he spat, "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him, damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

"Not all elves are bad, or against you." The Argonian grumbled afterward muttering something along the lines of 'Racist bastard'

The fighter just glared back into the Argonian's eyes, a glare that was returned with equal or greater force before the human backed down, "This is Helgan, I use to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in." He reminisced, "Funny, when I was a boy the Imperial walls and towers use to make me feel so safe."

The Argonian looked to a family watching the procession from their porch, "Who are they Daddy? Where are they going?" the son asked.

"You need to go inside, little cub." his father beckoned.

"Why? I want to watch the solders." the son countered.

"Inside the house, now." the father commanded.

The wagons started to pull to a stop, "Get these prisoners out of the carts! Move it!" a commanding voice boomed.

"Why are we stopping?" the thief asked scared.

The fighter only sighed, "Why do you think? End of the line." The wagons came to a complete halt, "Let's go. It isn't polite to keep the gods waiting."

The men rose from their seats and the Thief started to ramble off his innocence, "No! Wait! We're not rebels!"

"Face your death with some courage, thief."

"You got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!"

"I don't think they'll listen boy." The Frost-scale uttered, "They have an agenda to keep."

And indeed they did, the captain an Imperial woman started to shout orders, "Step up to the block when we call your name. One at a time."

The fighter sighed, "The Empire loves their dammed lists."

"Give them some credit Rebel." The Frost-scale hissed lightly, "At least they're organized, and at least they know your name."

This deeply insulted the fighter, but before he could retort he cut off when the Imperial Lieutenant started to list off names, "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." as called, the rogue Jarl steps up to the block.

The other Nord stood proudly, "It has been an honor Jarl Ulfric." he spoke pride lacing every word.

Next up was Ralof of Riverwood. _Ralof, I'm going to have to remember that._ The Argonian thought to himself as the man in question walked to the block. The thief started to shake slightly, he was fixing to bolt and he knew it. "Stay your feet boy." he whispered to the boy.

"Lokir of Rorickstead." The Lieutenant called.

The boy snapped, "No I'm not a Rebel! You can't do this!" The Argonian grabbed him by the tunic to try and keep him from running. But the thief just whipped around and drove his elbow into the frost-scale's snout dazing him a little throwing his balance off, and then legging it to gates in a vain attempt to escape. The attempt was quickly put down by the keen eyed Imperial Archers who each put an arrow into his back. A cowardly tactic in his opinion but its not like it mattered at this moment.

"Bloody fool…" the Argonian hissed as he stood back up, to his full height this time. He was a few inches taller than some of the soldiers there. He was about Six foot two weighing about two hundred pounds, and his physique wasn't lean but it wasn't bulky either. One would guess that most of his mass was muscle. Most of his scales were a grayish green almost white, the plumage on the crown of his head was also a dull white, two horns sprouted out from either side. Scars across his snout, and left eye added to his already rather mildly savage appearance.

"Are you alright?" The Lieutenant asked concerned for the mistakenly condemned soul.

"Hadvar!" The captain scolded, making him get on with his duty.

Hadvar sighed, "Who are you? Where are you from?" he asked, "You're not on any of our lists. You're not like any other Argonian I've ever met."

The Argonian tilted his head down a little to look Hadvar straight in the eyes, "Iskar, Ranger of the Raging Winter clan. Currently residing in Whiterun hold." His introduction was short, but the truth of his cultural heritage confused and surprised several Stormcloaks and Imperials alike. He was a member of one of the Frost-scale clans, they were as neutral as Whiterun in Skyrim, yet he was bound like a rebel, "As for the latter comment, I'm part of a community of Argonians native to Skyrim and parts of Highrock, Frost-scales" Iskar's calm demeanor was almost unsettling, like there was more to him that what appeared to be. "Several of our clans been roaming Skyrim for centuries, even fought along side the Imperial armies in the war against the Dominion."

Hadvar didn't know what to do, "Captain, he's not on the list and he belongs to one of Clans …" he explained being sure to recognize Iskar's social status with the utmost respect, "Killing him may bring trouble."

"Or it would send Whiterun and those lizard clans, a message that they need to make up their minds." The captain sneered maliciously, "He goes to the block, unless the general says otherwise."

The Lieutenant winced, "By your order captain… follow the captain comrade, nice and easy." again instead of 'prisoner' Hadvar recognized Iskar as a friend. Iskar smiled weakly didn't fuss he just complied and followed the rather ill tempered glory seeking imperial to the crowd of condemned Stormcloaks, to which the General was chastising Ulfric for his crimes and his fame in equal measure.

 _"Humans…"_ Iskar muttered in Jel as the general ended his rant and turned his attention the lone Argonian in the group and stepped closer just as one of the Stormcloaks looses his head.

"I never thought I'd see an Argonian Frost-scale bound among this rabble." Tullius started on Iskar, "Let alone one of the Raging Winter. Tell me how did you get here?"

The Frost-scale just looked that the Imperial with a somewhat neutral expression, "Happenstance, General. I was heading home from the mine at Darkwater crossing when I stumbled into that ambush." he told his tale, "I had no way of knowing."

Tullius ran his hand though his hair and sighed slightly though his graying hair, "Of course you didn't." he whispered looking to the other prisoners, "Executing you would only anger the Winters which is something I'm not intent on doing." pausing a moment take a breath, "I watched Tal-Kar fall on the battlefield, I'm not going to spit on that sacrifice by staining a Legion blade with the blood of his kin… Cut him loose!"

They all hesitated a moment, staring at the Tullius, who quickly became impatient with his soldiers inaction just shook his head and cut the binds off the Argonian himself. "You have my thanks General Tullius." giving a deep nod stepping to the side facing the crowd as Ulfric was ushered to the block.

Once he was down to his knees Iskar's blood all of a sudden ran cold as he heard a deep repeating _'whooom'ing'_ sound echoed on the wind. His fears were further confirmed followed by a sudden ominous roar as a massive black winged creature landed atop the tower it's blood red eyes peering down upon the crowd. "What in Oblivion!?" Tullius shouted his heart feeling terror upon seeing the physical embodiment of fear and death.

A handful of Stormcloaks shouted 'Dragon' before they started to scramble for any cover they could find.

"Dovah…" Iskar whispered, fear and courage filled his heart in equal measure.

" _Fus Ro_ … **_DAH_**!" The dragon shouted blasting the hapless and stunned headsman into the ground turning him into a bloody smear across the ground and sending dirt, debris and anyone unlucky enough to get caught in the blast flying several feet, Iskar included. After about a moment, the winged terror released another yet indistinguishable shout, the sky tore open and started to rain fire and brimstone.

"Fuck my luck." The Argonian spat, trying to stand up, as the entire town erupted into chaos. Dazed and disoriented he lost all sense of the situation; he honestly thought all of this was a nightmare.

"Hey…" a voice called to him, he barely heard it the first time over the sounds of explosions and crumbling stone. "Oi Argonian!" called the voice again only it was much closer this time, Iskar looked to his right and saw Ralof running towards him, "Come on git up!" he shouted at the semi-conscious Argonian, pulling him to his feet, "The gods are not going to give us another chance!"

Stumbling and staggering, Iskar made his way to the tower the Stormcloaks where holed up in. The moment the door slammed shut he dropped to a knee to get his bearings while the rebels squabbled amongst themselves. Iskar knew they had to escape the town before it got completely destroyed. "We got to move, NOW!" he heard one Nords shout, not particularly listening to who it was.

Ralof gave Iskar's shoulder a hard pat, "Come on friend." and headed up the tower in attempt to find a way though.

Not exactly getting the plan the Argonian asks, "What are we going to do when we reach the top? Jump?"

Ralof had to admit that he didn't know, "I don't know, but we'll think of something."

Iskar swore he heard something clawing up the side tower, be assumed it was the dragon from how heavy the sound was. And the moment they reached the second level the wall exploded in ward. Half burying a rebel in rubble. " _Yol…_

"He's going to…" Iskar starts as Ralof shoves him back.

"GET BACK!" the Nord shouts as the dragon releases its flame upon the helplessly pinned rebel roasting him alive. His pained screams gurgled and died leaving a blackened and charred corpse.

"Arkay, rest your soul." The Argonian muttered.

As Iskar prayed for the recently deceased, Ralof franticly searched for a way around before looking to the breach in the wall and the burning inn across the way. "There's no way though! You're going to have to jump!"

"How did I know that you were going to say that?!" the Frost-scale spat.

"Don't be a smart ass, lizard!" the Nord snapped back, "Just jump!" Instead of arguing the rather insane lack of logic of the decision, he actually makes the leap clearing several feet and hit's the crumbling floor with a roll. Once on his feet and standing the floor caved in bring bringing him unwillingly down as well, he crash landed on a smoldering dresser, completely pulverizing it.

Once the Argonian shook himself out of his daze and got up he continued to move thought the inn. Flames licking his scales, embers burning holes in his burlap tunic and pants. The heat didn't bother him much, it was the dry air and smoke getting to him as he found the door.

As he exits the inn, he saw Hadvar and one of the other villagers his right, but to his left he saw a young boy trying to run from the dragon as it landed, he watched the boy trip, _'He isn't going to make it!'_ without a second thought he broke into a sprint passing two men as he did. With his hands unbound he able to do something, he slid near the boy as he suddenly changed direction, grabbing the back of his shirt and drags him behind the burning remains of a house as the dragon released it's flame. The boy escaped harm, Iskar wasn't as lucky however as the flames seared his back and tail, the back half of his tunic was incinerated causing the rest to fall away reveling his upper body.

After the dragon took flight Iskar's charred hide started to regenerate, much to his discomfort. The regenerating flesh and scales produced a extremely unbearable itching sensation. An itch that unfortunately he could scratch at the present time which irritated him.

"Iskar!" he hear Hadvar's voice shout as the Nord Legionnaire rushed to the aid the wounded Argonian in anyway that he could.

"The boy…" The Frost-scale started as trying to stand and regain his composure.

"Safe, lets go we need to get out of here!" the soldier cut him off as he tried to help the rather large Argonian to his feet. Afterward the two kept moving nearly getting crushed when the dragon landed on a ledge near them. Arrows flew at the beast, but even as they just bounced off it's thick hide the creature releases a stream of flames from it's fanged maw thoroughly cooking it's attacker.

"Damn!" Iskar curses as the monster takes flight again, "This is ridiculous!"

"Lets go!" the Legionnaire pressed forward though the ruined house to find other soldiers of his unit, still desperately and vainly combating the dragon.

Tullius noticed the two men appear from the burning home, "Hadvar! Into the keep soldier! We're leaving!" He had recognized the futility of the situation and had order the remainder of his men to retreat.

The Nordic Legionnaire groaned in annoyance but followed his orders making his way to the keep with Iskar in toe. They reached a gap in the wall further up the path near the keep. The sound of a dragon roaring overhead made him look up to see the rapidly descending body of a Legionnaire the beast apparently snatched off the wall. Iskar managed to barely step back letting the body hit the ground with a resounding thud, the sounds of bones shattering sent a chill up Iskar's spine. He was all too aware that the body could have very easily landed on him. If the encounter didn't kill the poor bastard, the fall sure did.

He hissed a curse in his native tongue before he saw the bow and quiver on the soldier's back, the quiver in question still had it's leather shroud over it, meaning the unfortunate archer was scooped up before he could even nock an arrow. The Frost-scale saw an opportunity and snagged the bow and quiver from the fallen soldier, ripped the covering off the arrows, drawing one and nocking it. Drawing the string and leveling the bow on dragon's head all in one fluid movement. As the dragon circled round for another strike, Iskar steadied his breathing aiming for the eye of the beast before releasing the arrow. It took several agonizing seconds for the aforementioned missile to actually strike the dragon, though it struck it square in the snout and shattered into pieces.

The massive creature didn't even acknowledge it was even hit, it just kept coming right at Iskar, opening its maw in attempt to snatch him from the ground and snap him in half.

* * *

Three days later.

Iskar's eyes snapped open and his body snapped up with a start looking around the room as he tried to get his breathing under control. He found that he was in the cellar of someone's home, then his memory returned to him. He and Hadvar made it to Riverwood, the town blacksmith was Hadvar's uncle, Alvor. He and his wife gave them a place to stay until they got back on their feet.

Hadvar left the day before to return the legion while Iskar stayed a little longer to allow his back to properly heal after the rapidly regenerating his damaged flesh back in Helgen.

Getting up and making sure his cloths were decent, they were given to him by Alvor to get him out of those scratchy burlap trousers -and the Frost-scale was grateful for it. He headed up stairs to see Sigrid cooking.

And she noticed the Argonian coming up the stairs, "Mornin' to you Iskar. Did you sleep well?" at this he shook his head, "Still having nightmares? Come sit I'll fix you some breakfast."

"Thank you, Sigrid…" he bowed his head respectfully, "I am grateful for you and your husbands generosity and hospitality."

"Its nothing really, I just wish we could do more for you." She said with a soft smile setting a plate down in front of him. "Alvor is waiting for you by the forge when your ready."

Iskar tended to Alvor's forge over the course of the three days to make himself feel useful. Whether it be chopping wood for arrow shafts, assisting in the crafting of weapons, armor or other things an adventurer or traveling mercenary might need.

With Iskar's skill and knowledge of the forge enabled him to make good quality equipment, something that wouldn't break or get punctured on the first strike and it was built to last as long as the material allowed it. He continued to assist the blacksmith until he was fully stocked.

"I think that will be enough." The hearty Nord concluded, "I'll make sure your work here would fetches a fair price. I've heard of the craftsmanship of the Frost-scale clans… but I've never seen it in practice first hand."

"Trust me, my friend. Our craftsmanship is more a necessity that it is a trade or profession." Iskar grinned, "Slavers and the Dominion actively hunt my people, if we have no means to protect ourselves they would surly get their way."

The smith nodded, "A group of Argonians on the run for so many years, then you just decide to take a stand and fight back right here in Skyrim of all places. By using Skyrim's harsh unforgiving environment to your advantage and turning the hunter into the hunted." was almost phrasing the Frost-scales' history as if it were legend, "During your war against your enemies your bodies adapted to the harshness of the land becoming heartier more resistant to nature and its savage ways, your hunting tactics become as unforgiving as Skyrim itself… yet you never forget the reason why you fight, Survival. You don't do anything to anyone that doesn't deserve it, you never harm innocent travelers if anything you protect them from the trees and roadsides… while striking fear into the hearts of your foes."

The Frost-scale grinned, "So that particular legend goes… I'll never understand the need to spin such fanciful tales about things."

"Stories ensure that one is never truly forgotten." Alvor reasoned, and it was reasoning that Iskar had to concede to, "Say… you're fixing to leave soon right?"

"Perhaps, why?"

"Why don't you use what ever materials I have left to outfit yourself?" the Smith offered. Iskar stood up preparing to politely refuse when Alvor raised a hand to silence him, "I haven't even paid you yet, so consider this your payment for a job well done I'll even help you."

Again this was logic that the Argonian found hard to ignore, "Thank you Alvor, I'm very grateful for all of your help."

"Well, shall we get started then shall we?"

Several hours later the sun was beginning to set several hours of hammer to anvil shaping and bending metal, the two smiths had beat out and entire set of steel armor sans the helmet as well as a new shield and long sword both forged of steel long bow made of stiff ash. Iskar was finishing up the polish on his new sword when he heard a commotion down the road at the trading post. He caught small bits of the argument about something being stolen and sighed. He glanced over to the dummy where his near complete set of sturdy Nordic styled steel armor stood. "I guess its time to get moving."

He disassembled the dummy removing the armor from it and applying it to his own body, before reassembling it out of courtesy. He fashioned a special belt harness that featured a set of pouches on the belt around waist, while the belt crossing his chest and back over his right shoulder secured his sword's sheath with the quiver over top of it with in reach of his right arm making the drawing of an arrow or his sword easy. The bow he pulled off the vice after training it to flex as it was required so it didn't snap on him the first draw. It settled itself around the quiver using its odd shape to keep from falling off.

He started to stretch and twist to let the straps get use to his form, afterward he quickly wrote out a letter again thanking the family for caring for him before making his way to the post… starting off by taking his first task on this road. He was a Ranger after all.

* * *

 **There you go, First chapter and Iskar's Journey has begun. IF you have questions regarding Iskar or the Frost-scale clans don't hesitate to ask.**


	2. Giants, Companions and Spiders

**To anyone Following my story I AM SO SORRY. the past year and a half has been extremely rough but I've never stopped working on this. So without further ado.**

 **Ch.2: Giants, Companions and Spiders.**

* * *

Bleak-Falls Barrow… an ancient Nordic tomb filled with undead and other nasty traps magical and mechanical to protect the dead and their treasures from grave robbers. Something that Iskar completely failed to understand was the need to preserve the dead.

Southern Argonians "Marsh-walkers", returned their fallen to the earth to nurture nature's growth. They strive hard to preserve the old traditions and keep them alive for the newer generations. Even though, they're land has been repeated ravaged by slavers, Elves and other hostile invaders they persist and survived though out history. Their bodies accustomed to the marshes of their home or whatever would come close to it, smooth membranes covered by durable and flexible scales though out their bodies, with a variety of horns adorning their heads and were in an assortment of vibrant colors.

The heartier yet fewer Northern Argonians "Frost-Scales" burned their dead to allow their souls the freedom to protect and guide others. Descendents of slaves that rebelled escaping Elven captivity in Morrowind and fought for survival as they moved west into the more savage regions of Tamriel, namely Skyrim and neighboring High Rock. The constant fighting and nature's unrelenting fury molded them into what they are today a hearty people that their southern egg-siblings can be proud of. Naturally resistant to the cold though generations of adaptation, thick hides covered by a coat of thick scales to lock in more heat even and provided their bodies significantly more protection, even though their colorations seem to be limited to whites, grays and maybe the occasional slight green, red, or blue tinge. They are larger, more ferocious and savage in appearance than their southern siblings, and a somewhat weary of outsiders especially Elves. But they were not however unreasonable.

But no matter the region no matter what the tradition or belief, they were all "People of the Root". They were all Saxhleel.

Iskar proceeded up the path to the barrow, dealing with a few wolves in the process. He noticed the further up he got the rougher it got, even though he knew that nature changes landscapes over time he was confident in his memory and his skills to know where he was.

However not even half way up the mountain he started to feel the earth tremble beneath his feet, one tremor was followed by another just seconds afterward. He honestly though the earth beneath his very boot was going to split open and swallow him whole. Alas, that is not what fate had in store for him. Looking up the mountain he could he saw something he wasn't expecting. A giant had started walking down the mountain; he hid to let it pass not wanting to pick a fight with something that didn't have any hostile intent against him in the first place. Once it passed he continued up the mountain, pausing to spare a look down at the giant as it marched down the mountain… right to a farmer's field near the city of Whiterun.

"Great…" Iskar hissed as he followed the giant's path back down carefully and quietly. Using his mixed training to stay hidden for as long as possible during the descent, his kind couldn't ignore the imminent danger the giant now posed to the landowners and the city's populace he pulled his ash longbow from it's comfortable perch around his quiver along with a solitary arrow, holding both in his bow hand until he was ready to use it.

Once in the clearing he followed the ridgeline to the left going up hill to get a better vantage point, what he saw caused him to grin a little. Three warriors had engaged the giant in battle, three humans-three Nords by their fierce battle cries. One Nord was launching arrows at the massive humanoid while the others just slashed at it with swords. The ranger winced when the giant's club slammed into shield of one of the fighters-shattering it- sending them flying slamming into a retaining wall. Iskar quickly readied his bow drawing the arrow back leveling it on the giant watching it's movement while listening to the wind with his 'ears' adjusting accordingly. Iskar released the arrow with a 'snap' right as the giant brings his bone club around to swing. The arrow found its mark imbedding itself in the muscle below the elbow causing the giants arm to spasm releasing the club mid-swing sending it hurling in to a distant field.

Smiling at his work Iskar moved further down the hill closing distance with the Giant and the warriors combating it. Drawing a pair of arrows from his quiver as he closed in on the battle stopping a good seventy-five feet from the middle of it, nocking the arrows lining up the shot on the giant's lower back drawing back to the point to where the bow was close to its threshold. After he was confident that the shot would connect he released his arrows, the arrows split mid-flight and struck the giant in back to the left of the spine and is left calf. The giant dropped down to a knee, opening itself up to more fatal blows from the two able fighters-not how he originally planned it but he wasn't complaining about the results. Being close enough Iskar could see who they were, a man and two women all Nords. The dark haired male sported black war paint around his eyes as if they seemed to be permanently bruised, welding a steel two handed great sword and was clad in steel. The woman that was still standing, a redhead, dark green paint resembling a bear claw slashing across her face, wearing what appeared to be the armor of the ancient Nords, she handled her bow with well practiced precision as she launched another arrow at the giant.

The third of the party, short black hair studded leather was out cold against the wall, and Iskar was fairly certain her arm was broken, as he rushed to her aid. Behind him the archer launched one final missile into the giant's neck just as the warrior thrusts his great sword into it's chest cavity just below it's ribcage giving it a savage twist before ripping the blood stained blade free, felling the beast for good. The earth trembled as the giant came crashing down.

"Well that was fun." the large Nord chuckled cleaning the blood off his sword, "Haven't had a fight like that in a long while."

"Neither have I companion." Iskar smiled for a brief moment as he tended to the young woman's arm, it was broken under her steel gantlet, "Her arm is broken, and you may want to leave that gantlet on her until she can be seen by a healer."

"We'll see to her when we get back into the city." The female Nord spoke up, eyeing the red tailed arrows, "You handled yourself well, Frost-scale."

His hands paused for a moment before the resumed checking the girl for other injuries, "What gave me away?"

"You smell of evergreen trees and snow…" the male started.

To which the female finished, "That and your hide looks thick enough to be its own set of armor. Other Argonians generally are not that thick."

The Argonian had to chuckle, they knew of his kind by sight and smell, the companions were very able warriors and hunters the only ones that could honestly say they could rival them were the nine Frost-scale clans and possibly the Orc strongholds. "That's impressive." he commented with honest amazement, "Few really truly know abut my people… most just see us as larger Argonians."

"Then most chose not to see it!"

"Never the less." The female interrupted, "You would make an exceptional Shield-Brother… why don't you come up to Jorrvaskar when you find the time."

"Aela, didn't we already take in a new blood?" the male asked stepping over to the unconscious companion and carefully scooped her up into his arms to carry her back to the city.

"You mean Maraki?" Aela asked shaking her head, "He's earned his place with us Farkas; he earned his passage into the Companions. So what if he's a Khajiit? His arms with axe in hand sends his foes flying and he has eyes for a Nord woman… he's a Nord born in a cat's body, even I can see that."

Iskar had to chuckle, this is what he liked about the companions they didn't care of the race of the warrior, as long as they could prove that they were worthy of the name Companion. Though some bandit groups and foreign trade companies just see them as glorified mercenaries not to unlike the Cyriodiilic fighter's guild. But Iskar could tell that something was off with two of them… they smelt oddly like bloodied wolves. "As much as I would like to swap tales with you Companions, I have urgent news to deliver to the Jarl." With that he explained his purpose for heading to Whiterun. That a dragon destroyed Helgan and Riverwood was in danger

"By Ysmir's beard!" Farkas quietly cursed, "Dragons…"

"That's not important right now." Aela interrupted turning to follow the road to the city, "Walk with us to the city we'll see you in. The Jarl would want to hear of this."

"Your assistance is most appreciated." the Frost-scale nodded gratefully as he followed the Nords.

The walk didn't take them very long to reach the gates, to which they were challenged. A guard clad in chain mail accompanied by a yellow sash and a full helm, making it extremely hard to discern his identity.

"Halt!" the guard commanded to the incoming party, "The city is closed with the dragons about, unless you have business here I suggest you move along."

"You know who we are, Ice brain." Aela all but growled in annoyance. "We're returning to Jorrvaskr from our latest hunt…"

"I know of you Companion." The guard interrupted, "I know not of your company. Doesn't the lizard speak for himself?" tossing his hand in the Argonian's direction twisting his wrist palm up making a gesture. "Or was it hatched without a tongue?"

Iskar stood unmoving, having grown accustom to the Human's and Mer's belittlement of the beast races, he wasn't going to give the guard the satisfaction of even remotely looking irritated, "Iskar, Ranger of the Raging Winter clan." he announced himself, "I come on behave of Alvor the blacksmith of Riverwood… Helgan has been destroyed by a dragon and Riverwood is under threat of attack, they call for aid."

The guard paused; he honestly didn't know what to think as Iskar informed him of his intent to warn the Jarl of the danger. The Nordic attitude was quickly replaced with strong sense of duty a city guard should have. "Go on in, Best you get up to Dragonsreach straight a way. The Jarl will want to speak with you immediately." The guard turned and opened the gate to allow the small party into the city.

Granted his clan resided in the hold, he had never actually been inside the city before. This was supported by him following the three companions through at least two districts of the city. Seeing a smithy-someplace he can find work later- a market and several shops and outfitters. Once group arrived in a small square with a wilting tree planted in the middle of it. Aela turned to him, "This is where we part ways. Dragonsreach is further up the stairs there."

"Thank you Companion." Iskar nodded politely, "It was honor to fight along side you."

"And the same to you Iskar of the Raging Winter. May your battles be swift and glorious, Ranger." parting at that, the two companions carried their injured shield sibling up another path to what seemed to be a capsized ship.

With a sigh, the white Argonian scaled the steps as he made his way up to the Jarl's residence even though the guards either ignored him or they didn't believe the words that were being spewed from the mouths of the rebellion, that the beast races were slaves of the Dominion trying to take over Skyrim. Without a second thought he pushed the large double doors opened and stepped inside Dragonsreach.

What he found is what he expected; the great hall was massive two tables on either side of a fire pit covered in dinnerware, high balconies on either side over looking the room. What puzzled him is that the room was meticulously devoid of finery or artwork. Just a few simple rugs and city banners. It was surprisingly modest from what he saw. And at the head of the room, just above the throne a skull of a dragon was mounted to the wall as if it were some sort of trophy from a lost age. As he approached, a dark elf took notice drew her sword and advanced on him.

Iskar extended his arms out from his sides palms out showing that he was no threat. That didn't seem to relax the Dunmer any, if anything she just tightened her grip on her sword. "What is the meaning of this interruption? The Jarl isn't expecting any visitors."

"I just came up from Riverwood the town calls for aid." he stated his business honestly and firmly, "Alvor the smith sent me to get help."

"Well that explains why the guards let you in." The Dunmer woman hesitated as she lowered her blade slightly, "As Housecarl, it is my duty to protect the Jarl and his people. You better explain yourself."

"A Dragon burned Helgan down three days ago." Iskar informed the Housecarl, "Riverwood requests assistance. They fear that they are next."

"Irileth! I'll hear what he has to say." A commanding voice from the back of the room. The Dunmer… Irileth sheathed her sword and stepped aside allowing Iskar to approach.

The Argonian did so, however as it seemed the Jarl's hearing was still good for his age. "So you say a dragon attacked Helgan?"

"Yes Jarl." Iskar answered with honest confidence, "It burned the town to the grown sparing very, very few people. An Imperial Legionnaire and I managed to escape though the tunnels just barely escaping with our lives. We were afraid if the dragon didn't get us… that the rebels would."

"By Yismir… Irileth was right." Balgruuf looked to his steward Proventus Avenicci, "So what do you think Proventus? Do you trust in the strength of our walls… against a dragon?"

Before he could say anything the Housecarl quickly butted in, "My Jarl, we should send troops to Riverwood at once." she advised, "They are in the most immediate danger."

Proventus immediately objected, "The Jarl of Falkreth would seed that as provocation! They would probably think they we were going to join Ulfric's side and attack them! We need…"

"ENOUGH!" Balgruuf's voice thundered throughout the great hall as he forced himself off his throne, "Proventus let me be clear: I have absolutely no intention on sitting ideally by as a dragon burns my hold and slaughter the people I SWORE to protect!"

The steward backed down clearly knowing his place in this hall.

"Irileth dispatch a contingent to Riverwood immediately." he quickly ordered of his housecarl, "And do make sure they are adequately supplied for the journey."

"At once my Jarl." the Dunmer saluted and walked out of the great hall.

"Proventus, bring me a role of parchment." Balgruuf requested of his steward. "I would like to inform Jarl Sidger of the situation… and pray he doesn't do anything rash."

"Yes Jarl." Proventus walked off to the servants' quarters.

Taking a breath processing all the recent information the Jarl gently rubbing his brows before directing his attention to the Argonian that remained in front of him. "What is your name friend?"

"Iskar, ranger of the Raging Winter clan, Jarl Balgruuf." he introduced himself with a small sense of pride.

"A Frost-scale?" the older Nord found his interest perk just a bit, "Your clan inhabits Fort Graymoor and protects my hold's western boarder correct?"

"Yes." Iskar said simply, "The elder figured it would be an ideal place to establish a camp, as well as insure your citizens remained safe in that area."

"Your people have my thanks for that." Balgruuf informed him, "And you as well, for seeking me out during this crisis. Ordinarily I would reward you with something from my armory, but as I understand it Frost-scales prefer to use their own weapons and equipment."

"Indeed we do Jarl Balgruuf, it's hard to trust something we don't make ourselves." the Frost-scale clarified respectfully.

"Well I'm not going to let you're sense of duty to my people go unrewarded." the Jarl scratched his beard in thought. "Something to aid you in your travels… bah! It will come to me in time for now I have a project that you could help us with." with that, he started walking towards a side room with the Argonian following.

"A project?" Iskar asked curiously.

Nodding Balgruuf answered, "Yes with all of this dragon business going about, I've appointed my court wizard to try and solve this puzzle."

' _I'm already not liking where this is heading.'_ He knew exactly where this was going, "You need me to do something for him don't you?"

"Just see what he has to say."

"Very well." Iskar said still not liking the situation, "I'll help however I can."

"Good."

* * *

The following morning Iskar had unloaded and re-supplied, making a few purchases. Adding a steel dagger to his small arsenal before heading out back across the river and up the small mountain, Balgruuf's court wizard, a witty Nord by the name of Farengar Secret-Fire had tasked him with retrieving an ancient burial stone in Bleak Falls Barrow.

Naturally this annoyed Iskar somewhat because he was already heading up that very same place on a completely different errand the previous day, if the giant hadn't diverted his attention by attacking the farm he would have completed not only completed the task of retrieving the golden claw, he would have more than likely had collected the stone and had it appraised by that very same wizard. Now he was ankle deep in snow with the winds swirling between the peak the barrow rested on and the Throat of the World, as he circled around the east side of the mountain to the old watch tower.

' _By Akatosh… If I hadn't diverted yesterday I would have already have had this place done and over with.'_ Iskar groaned adjusted the leather hood he had stitched into his steel armor's padding. _'The snow and cold I can deal with… but this damn wind…'_ The hood protected his lobes and his eyes from the wind's howling gusts, early in life he learned as a hunter that if you don't protect your senses from nature's fury then you might as well be deaf and blind to what could potentially hunt you down for their supper.

He was about to curse again when he thought he heard voices. Biting his tongue he stopped, closed his eyes and focused, they came again, the voices just barley on the wind. From experience Iskar knew that only two kinds of people would brave the rocky terrain around the barrow: raiders and grave robbers.

Trading his shield for longbow as he pressed forward though the snow, ordinarily snow is the enemy of stealth but once wind is added on top of that it covers sound and tracks-providing that a patrol doesn't find them first. The howling winds hid the creeks and clinks of his armor as the old tower came into view, he could just barely make out two figures in the twisting blizzard, one up on the tower and one leaning against the tree beside its walkway.

He kneeled down drawing a pair of arrows, sliding one of them into the fingers of his bow hand and nocking the other. _'Lady Kynareth, Goddess of wind and Queen of the rolling plains…'_ he slowly drew the string and arrow back, _'I call upon you to ease your gale, please allow me the moment to dispatch my quarry quickly and painlessly.'_ completing the draw, he trained the arrow on the raider leaning against the tree, _'Please, Lady Kynareth.'_ as if his prayer was answered, the wind shifted. The moment Iskar felt the wind on his back he let the arrow loose with a dull, 'thum' as the bow violently snapped back launching the steel headed missile.

The bandit never saw it coming, the two and a half foot long steel arrow struck with the force of a ballista bolt piercing his leather clad chest, his heart and before finally anchoring him to the tree behind him. He was dead instantly with nothing more than a grunt with the arrow shaft suspending him up right. Unfortunately the second bandit heard his partner's demise and disappeared from view.

Iskar took this moment to move up closer for a cleaner shot that was more reliant on skill than divine intervention. Nocking the second arrow following up with a quick and crisp draw he was ready again by the time the second bandit appeared. He released, and after about a moment the arrow found its mark: the neck of the second bandit. The body was thrown sideways and off the walkway sending it plunging down to the rocks below.

"Praise be."

Moments later, he easily dispatched three more sentries in a similar manner leaving their bodies where they fell; he even slit the throat of one that emerged out of the barrow to… relieve himself. Helping himself to anything of value they had on them before moving on though the barrows huge double doors.

He snuck past a blond Nord woman that was sleeping near the fire that was built near the hallway. Unlike the sentries he killed on the way in, he spared her life for two reasons: First she was asleep with a blanket draped over her and her gear tossed aside and out of arm's reach, meaning that she wasn't an immediate threat. Secondly she smelled of recent sex, meaning he had just killed her lover-probably the man he caught urinating. He wasn't a murderer but the last thing he needed was her to wake up finding her man dead and start whaling though the barrow alerting her comrades… or whatever else inhabits the place for that matter, so he just skirted around her.

Forging ahead, dealing with Skeevers, traps, witnessing a bandit fall victim to aforementioned traps. The intricacy of the tomb was starting to grate on the Argonian's nerves, "All of this to protect a collection of corpses… I will never understand the morbid fixation with preserving the dead; it just makes places like this favorable to necromancers…"

"Hello?" A voice called out echoing down the halls of the barrow. "Anybody there!? Bjor, Solene? Somebody please help!"

Iskar winced; he had honestly thought that he was being quiet. Either the ranger needed a refresher on stealth or the acoustics of the barrow was making sneaking incredibly difficult. Regardless of the circumstances he assumed that voice knew he was there, "Are you injured?"

"Naw just a little… wrapped up." the voice called, "Now can you hurry up and cut me down before it comes back?"

The Argonian had just rounded the corner when a massive frostbite spider lowered itself to the floor the moment Iskar stepped into the chamber. His eyes widened at the size of it… "Talos' left hanging nutsack…" He cursed as it launched a ball of webbing causing him to reflexively raise his shield to block the ranged attack as his sword hand reached for his weapon. The sword wasn't not even halfway out of it's scabbard on his back when the spider rushed in swinging one of it's forelegs in attempts to knock him down.

He deftly blocked the attack with his shield and managed to get his sword free of its sheath by the time the spider's other foreleg came down. As the strike was coming from the right there wasn't time to reposition his shield, his body did a number of things at once. His arm pulled his sword in towards him and as the spider got closer, he threw his weight backward a little making stumble backwards, blade slashing out just as the spider's left foreleg entered the space he was just standing almost a second ago.

The steel blade took the spider's offending appendage at the joint causing the oversized arachnid to screech in agony as it stumbled backward in shock. The hastily executed hindsight slash bought Iskar precious seconds, time he used to go on the offensive. Closing the gap quickly he swung the sword at the remaining foreleg viciously severing it from the rest of the spider's body. He quickly followed up with a shield bash to its face breaking one of its pincers and sending it crashing to the floor.

Iskar finally delivered the coup de grace, driving his sword between the creature's eyes and held it there until it stopped moving completely. "Damn thing…" he cursed it as he pulled his blade from its carcass and wiped its murky green blood off of it.

"There you killed it!" the Argonian looked around for the source of the voice and found a dark elf suspended in the doorway by series of spider webs blocking the way forward, "Name's Arvel. Now for Arkay's sake can you cut me down from here before I go completely mad!?"

"First you give me that gold claw you're carrying." Iskar growled turning his blade on the elf pressing its tip to his neck.

"Are you stupid or can you not see that I can't even move right now!?" Arvel sneered, "You have to cut me down first!"

Grumbling something along the lines of 'damn thief' before he meticulously cut at the webbing keeping the dark elf in place. Once Arvel was free he dropped to the floor momentarily letting him regain his balance. "Thank you… _S'WIT!_ " without warning Arvel lands a solid right hook connecting to Iskar's face, and taking off down the hall.

"BASTARD!" Iskar bellowed angrily as he tried to recover from the recoil and took off after him.

"You're not going to catch me lizard!" the elf's voice echoed thought he halls. The Frost-scale gave chase dashing though a few rooms and down stairs before entering the main crypt. "What are… Oh gods NO!"

He watched it happen, he watched it come to life… he watched a Draugr rise up from his alcove, take up arms and practically cleave Arvel in half with an ancient battleaxe ending the miserable elf's life. But Iskar's concerns had suddenly and violently shifted, for the Barrow had awakened.

"Akatosh help me." he quietly uttered.

* * *

 **Ok thats Ch.2. Sorry for the length, I'm not a fan of overly long chapters. Comments and Criticism welcome, but keep the flames too yourself.**


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